The Book of Gwynyyth
by Tryynity
Summary: Gwynyyth is my Ranger in the online game Lord of the Rings by Turbine. I have begun a total re-write, hoping to improve now the storyline and grammar. Each Chapter will be noted as being improved as it is. Please comment and offer suggestions for further improvement, I want to improve as a writer. I also aim to finish the story in this draft.
1. Chapter 1 Re-written 23Jan2014

Author Note: Revised 23/JAN/2014

**THE BEGINNING**

That night as my cell door clanged shut, I deemed my life was at an end. If anyone said to me at that moment, when it opened again, I would be stepping into an exhilarating new life; I would have laughed fair in their face, once I stopped crying that is.

Only a few days earlier, I stepped from the relative safety of my parent's home and into the vast unexplored world. I believed it was the beginning of a new life for me, I was ecstatic. Those feelings changed rapidly though amidst the company of my sorrow and despair inside my cell. I found myself feeling I was a very foolish young girl, with a head full of stupid fancies.

My adventure started out thrilling and exciting; open roads and trails stretched out before me akin to a sumptuous buffet waiting for consumption, until a group of brigands ambushed me on my way to Breeland.

However badly my adventure may have started out, my life did unfold into a truly wonderful experience.

Okay, let me back this story up and relay to you the series of events, which landed me into that particular predicament.

My name is Gwynyyth and I am convinced the many Y's in my name is a subconscious expression of my folk's plain misfortune of having _me_. By their design or as an act of compassion by 'the powers that be', I was their only child.

My life was one of a simple farming household, poor, but bearable. I kept to myself, and stayed _mostly_ out of trouble. My parents showed me little love and they could not wait until I grew up and left home, but I got by okay.

As a young farm girl, I often took our farm's produce to the town market to sell it. I relished these times as I got the chance to visit an old retired ranger. He often sat at the base of a big old oak tree its shade telling wondrous tales of his life to children gathered around him. I loved to sit and listen to him for as long as I could manage it, sometimes longer because it was worth any punishment. His tales thrilled me, tales of roaming free in far off places, of elves, dwarfs, hobbits, and of battles for the side good and right, released my soul. I found freedom and excitement in these stolen moments from my day-to-day life. These stories set me adrift in my fertile imagination, sowing a seed of wanderlust not easily extinguished.

One day my parents heard that a local widow was offering a hefty sum of money to secure a wife for her only son. My devoted parents jumped at the chance to enlarge their purse while at the same time getting rid of me, and arranged our marriage. The ill-fated event was to occur soon after my 17th birthday.

Conceivably, you may be thinking this was a good turn of events for me. Well I did, at first. A big improvement on living at home with my parents right? Well, no, guess again. I discovered the reason why such a large amount of money was on offer. Her son is ugly, so ugly I am convinced a hideous beast fathered him. Although looks are not everything, I did have several standards and marrying a _he-beast_ was below them. I decided the time to strike off in search of a new life had arrived. So I did. One dark night I crept out of our shabby little shack-of-a- home and set out into the wide blue yonder of the unknown.

Well adventure soon found me on my way to the township of Bree. I had been free for a good half a day. I was happy, the sun was shining, and life was good - until I stumbled across a group of the Brigands. All happy feelings fled and terror took their place. They were the roughest men I had ever seen. I knew by just looking at them; they did not walk the path of the righteous. I was in big trouble. I tried to run away and I can proudly say I gave them a good run - I was nothing if not fast. However, as you are already aware, they did catch me.

Fortunate for me, the group decided not to _sully_ their prize. Instead, they chose to keep me as a trophy-gift for their leader - a fierce man, with a strong passion for fresh young girls. Luck again prevailed because he was not currently in residence back at camp. So, they tied me up like a pig for slaughter, and threw me into a cage-like cell for their boss's pleasure at his return.

There I lay in a crumpled heap where the brigands had thrown me, cold hard iron bars crushed up against my ribs. I hurt all over unable to adjust my position and left alone to contemplate my misery I realised no one knew I was there. Who would even be looking for me? Perchance my parents, having discovered I was missing - if only to prevent the loss of monetary gain - but they would not be looking here, that much I knew. I lay there in the dark, and I did what any non-hero would do, I cried; fearing what was ahead for me, and grieving the loss of freedom I had briefly experienced.

I did not know it at the time – one rarely ever does - but fate had landed me right where I needed to be.

I cried until I could cry no more, until all struggles left me, physically and emotionally. In a numb-like acceptance, I gave into whatever lay ahead for me. I slid deep into a nowhere place, a place where I felt nothing. I simply laid there and waited for the end to come. Suddenly, a striking young man appeared at my cell and began to set me loose.

"Do not fear," the man whispered as he loosed my bonds. "I am not here to bring you harm. I am looking for a friend, a ranger, his name is Amdir and he is in the company of a couple of Hobbits. My name is Strider, by the way." He smiled briefly at me.

Strider smelled of leather and dirt, quite tall with a strong build. I could see he was a man of the road; dishevelled brown hair framed an unshaven face and in a rugged kind of way, not unattractive.

My heart swelled with gratitude as I struggled to find my voice but all I could do was simply shake my head.

I had never seen a hobbit before, but I had heard of them in the stories told to me by the old ranger back home.

_Hobbits are short, friendly people;_ I thought quietly. _What could the Brigands possibly want with folks like them_?

Strider looked me over briefly, "Can you fight? Would you assist me in my search? Time is of utmost importance."

"Yes," I rasped not giving any serious thought to the matter.

Obviously, I was rendered temporarily insane; overflowing relief from being rescued addling my brain.

The ranger, Strider, handed me an old bow, along with some arrows. He showed me briefly how to use it. He then gave me a rusty knife, which I place in the belt around my waist. After brief instruction in regard to combat, he swiftly left to search the Brigand's compound.

I was free again, still afraid, but alive. I began to believe I at least had some chance of making escaping. I was good at sneaking; _I will sneak my way around until I find an exit. Perhaps I will even locate the ranger's friends, maybe even free them. It would be so wonderful to repay the debt to Strider for my own freedom_.

_Perhaps, Strider only recruited me as a diversion. _I pondered. _It would allow him to continue his search uninterrupted – clever_. _Whatever, at least it gives me a chance, a slim one, but still a chance._ I looked down at my newly acquired bow in my hand, ran my fingers over the grip of my knife, mustering as much resolve as I could and breathing deeply inward I pressed onward. _The plan is simple girly. Keep to the shadows, remain hidden, and do not make any noise, _I told myself_. _

Carefully I crept my way around various parts of the compound. It proved an easy task for the most part. I could locate where most of the men and women were by their rowdy drunken voices, and carefully avoided those areas. Clearly, this particular group of bandits saw no need whatsoever to have a guard of any kind.

For what seemed like ages, I searched various parts of the compound. I found nothing, no prisoners, and no exit and my hope was draining.

_This place is a maze of buildings and fences, it seems to have no logical layout,_ I complained inwardly_._ _With no map, I am only going to find my way by trial and error; I could be here for ages_. _I truly hope Strider's friends are not where the bandits are, because I know one thing for sure, I not am going to rush in there, rusty knife blazing, shooting arrows to the wind to play hero and save them, _I chuckled._ I am grateful, not stupid._

Suddenly I found myself at the edge of a large enclosure, which appeared to be deserted.

I surveyed the yard before me, at the far end; I saw what looked like a large iron gateway. Hope rose in my chest and excitement bubbled. _Could that be the exit?_ _I need to get closer and check it out_. I lowered myself into the gravelly dirt and crawled along on my stomach under some bushes and over to a pile of wood. _Please, please, please be the way out_. I skirted along its edge, remaining hidden behind it until I reached a better vantage point and I peered over the top into the dimly lit area. _Yes! They are definitely gates; closed, probably locked, but a definite, possible exit._

I then noticed in front of the iron gates sat a single bandit and I my stomach dropped. He was relaxing, staring up at the sky, and smoking a pipe. He had not seen me, so the element of surprise was still mine. I needed to make a decision.

I thought my options over carefully; _I could go back, maybe find Strider, perhaps he has located his friends already and escaped_. _I doubt he would come looking for me; he had already done his part._ _Maybe I could just find my way out in that direction; of course, that was where most of the Brigands were gathered. On the other hand, I could take this single man on._

I glanced down at the bow in my hand. I deeply wanted to go back and look for Strider but in my heart I felt to press onward, _something_ rose up in me, dare I say _took over_, some kind of courage; not mine that's for sure. I am not one for courage, bullied by my father, my entire life, I learned to submit and submit quickly.

Next thing I knew, I raised my bow and knocked an arrow, and in one calm breath outward, I released it toward my target. I heard it cut through the air.

And I missed…

_What? I do not believe... I was so sure…_ _and now my target is aware of my presence, wonderful._

The bandit stood up. In a single swift action, I knocked a second arrow and loosed it. This time it caught him in his shoulder, he screamed out in pain and yelled at me some obscenity I shall not repeat.

A tiny part of me celebrated, another felt horrible.

I dispatched a third arrow, and I missed again.

_Clearly, I am in desperate need of some practice, _I huffed inwardly. _The bandit is too close to me now for arrows but I still have my trusty, rusty knife._

I dropped my bow and fumbled for my blade. Drawing it quickly from my belt, I held it out before me and waved it frantically back and forth; absent of any skill or style whatsoever. I did know the pointy end did the damage though.

The Brigand's face contorted into a toothless grin as he lunged for me. Abruptly he fell to his knees. In stunned silence, I stared at the fallen man and I noticed an arrow jutting out from the middle of his back. I looked up and saw Strider, rushing toward me. My emotions swelled and tears of relief fell from my eyes, I was so happy to see him but he was alone and with some sadness I deduced his search had been unfruitful.

With the solitary guard's demise, Strider and I were now unhindered to examine the gate. Wordlessly, we ran to the gate. Only a single key operated lock locked it. Strider examined the lock closely, looking for a way to open it or break it. It occurred to me the key we needed may be on the dead bandit. The idea of searching his lifeless body did not appeal to me in the slightest, but I knew it to be a necessary discomfort.

I took a deep breath, walked over, and knelt beside the corpse. Quickly I rifled through his pockets to no avail. _Curse it!_ I thought. _Maybe he does not have the key._ It was then I noticed a piece of leather around his neck. I tore open the front of his shirt, and there it was a large black iron key; I almost squealed in delight. _This has to be it_!

Grabbing the cord with the key attached to it, I reefed it upwards, and over the bandit's head and rushed back to Strider. Strider took the key and inserted it into the lock, with a loud click, the lock opened.

"Well done," Strider whispered. I beamed with pride from the first praise I had heard ever. Carefully he removed the lock, placed it into the dirt, and opened the gate slowly while I kept lookout.

Of course, it made a loud screech as it opened, it would have been too much to hope that the Brigands had kept up maintenance on the thing, and kept it oiled. It did make sense that they would not. A squeaky gate hinge is a very useful alarm.

Sharply I drew in my breath. Strider and I waited, and listened for Brigands. None came.

I hated ale, a putrid drink. My father drank much too much of it and became an even nastier person than usual. However, right at that moment I was very, very thankful for it, it was a good thing the bandits had been drinking it; definitely made the odds of our escape more favourable.

We passed through the gate and entered into a large square enclosure. Quickly I scanned the yard. It was completely bare. I realised with great disappointment it was a dead end. I turned to look at Strider and saw him peering into the far right corner's shadows. We were not alone.

Strider crept closer holding my breath I stared into the shadows. My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light and eventually I saw two small cowering frames. They straightened and stepped forward as Strider neared.

"Celandine? Mundo?" Strider whispered.

"Aye," a woman's voice replied.

We had found the hobbit man and woman.

I could not believe it. Standing right there before me were hobbits. I had heard so much about them from the tales I had heard. They were much different to how I imagined. Celandine, the female, was short and lean, had a pleasant, friendly face. The male, Mundo, was rotund and much shorter and his face was grumpy looking.

"I'm so glad you found us. Let's get outta here. They took poor Amdir away to another part of the camp I'm afraid." The little woman frowned. "Let's cause a little havoc eh. Bloody Brigands capturing me an' ma friends, I'll show 'em!" She dashed over to a barrel and grabbed some sticks with rags wrapped around them. They were torches. It quickly occurred to me what the feisty little woman had planned and I liked her idea. Of course, stealth then would be entirely out of the question, Strider seemed to approve regardless.

She handed out the torches. "Take these and when I say so, light 'em. Torch the place," she giggled with glee and ran off, amazingly fast for a person with such little legs. Strider, Mundo, and I followed.

The hobbit woman led the way until we came to what must have been the main enclosure. I counted at least five Brigands inside. We both knelt down behind some refuse.

"See the fire pit o'er there," the Celandine pointed. "When I give the word, y' charge in there and get them torches lit, and then y' set fire to everything you can. We'll flush those stinkin' rats out an' then Strider here, shoots 'em down."

Thinking back, I truly admire that little woman and her abundance of courage. I set the roof aflame and everything else I could manage, it created such a useful diversion that the Brigand's were too busy rushing around wondering what was happening to notice the little hobbit lady when she dashed over and opened the gate. One by one, Strider picked off every bandit.

"Ha, ha," I shrieked gleefully. "Looks like the Brigand leader is still going to get his surprise when he returns, not one he will be happy with though."

Enlivened by our victory, we charged through the gateway. I fervently hoped this was the way out. We turned down a narrow alleyway and rounded a corner and then the four of us came to a sliding halt; before us was one of the most disturbing scenes I had come across in my life up to that point.

A large dark horse stood like a tower. Upon him was a dark eerie figure. On his head sat a spiked iron helmet, which hid its face and it wore a long dark flowing robe. A wild unnerving wind raged around them.

I looked on in terror, my mouth agape, barely able to take in what I was witnessing. The dark figure tormented a man hunched over in great pain, yet the figure appeared to do nothing in which to cause his pain.

"Amdir!" Strider yelled. "Foul creature be away from him." Strider ran forward brandishing his sword.

The ghostly form turned and looked in our direction. The unearthly wind moved to our position and swirled around us; the flames we lit earlier began to burn out of control. Suddenly the sky seemed heavy like lead. The atmosphere pressed down on us, and we could barely stand. The creature screeched a high-pitched scream, even over the roar of the flames and the howling wind I could hear it. Three of us cowered before it but I heard Strider battle himself. The being resumed its interrogation of the ranger, Amdir. I stood by helplessly; rooted in fear, watching the scene unfold before me.

It chills my heart even now when I recall it. In contrast, being married to an ugly man, spawning a brood of ugly children, seemed like a good deal.

Without warning, Amdir let out a loud cry and fell to the ground and the dark rider turned and rode toward us. Its horrid eyeless face gazed upon us, piercing through to our very souls, searching us intently. Its breaths were loud and hollow in sound. I could see the flames made the strange rider and its horse uneasy.

"Baag-gins, hob-bit," it rasped at us.

Strider bravely challenged the ghastly figure swiping at it with some burning timber. "You all shall buurrn," the creature roared.

"I will have my revenge," Strider roared.

"Thiss iss not the end, Dúnedain."

Strider fearlessly stood his ground. The creature's horse reared threateningly and then left us, galloping off into the hazy darkness.

Strider ran over to Amdir and dropped to his knees beside him and the hobbits and I joined him and stood by powerlessly.

"Amdir, my friend, hold on, we will get you out of here."'

Strider's concern for his friend was apparent as he heaved Amdir onto his shoulders.

"Archet is the closest village, we will head there. I am in much gratitude to you girl. Thank you for your help in finding my friends; follow me if you like. But I must travel swiftly Amdir is very ill."

10


	2. Chapter 2

_**In the previous chapter**__ - Gwynyyth, now known in jest as "The Heroine of Archet" was asleep in her room at the inn in Combe, when a knock at the door wakes her from her sleep…._

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><p><strong>In the process of another rewrite <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

In the process of another rewrite ... stay tuned


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